Beating Through Grace
by BumbleMumbbleJimJams
Summary: Motel, in the impala, sitting in a diner, wherever they are, it doesn't matter. Cas is with Meg somewhere, and she's not really paying attention to him, but all of his focus is on her.


He watches as the confines of her body move up, and down; the breath of a human body containing the demon inside. He can see them both, the outward appearance, and the truth below. He can admire them both. The soft flesh that peaks out from under the hem of her shirt, and the tortured demon. He wants to run his hands over everything. Thorny pain under explorative angelic fingertips. Her true face never lies, and rarely does the one she wear bother to either. When she lies, she is excellent, but he can always tell. He's got every bit of her memorized.

'Shut up.' She tells him, but knows she never wants him to stop talking. The jokes about him being tied up, she means those ones, more than she even realizes. He'll continue to let her be herself, and he'll continue to be himself. His voice drawls over meaningless words and she is enraptured, her eyes are directed elsewhere when she cares. He clears his throat and she pretends she wasn't listening to a word. He watches her mouth as she speaks with someone else's voice, but she is still so inherently her. Every word has a purity dripping off of it. For a demon she is almost angelic in her absolute. Or maybe that's just what he sees, because he always sees her. He brings his shame to the table and she only brings blatant acceptance without even trying. The presence of an abomination, a creature made for sinning, is like a cold shower washing away his sins.

He could run his tongue over her skin, taste the flesh that wasn't hers and watch the demon in her ultimate truth. He could carve into her ribs, marking her for redemption. He could match the breath of this vessel with hers, simply stay pressed up against her, staring into the eyes that hide her true ones. She'd laugh at him. It would be funny, an angel expressing his will like this, but she can't see him the way he can see her. That she's lying again. The demon knows.

His mouth against hers, warm breath consuming all he possibly can. Hands exploring, pulling her close. All the things he could do to bring this body to him, and it would never be enough. Vessels could never connect they way he wants them to.

His teeth could sink into her, let the demon blood wash through this body, feel her inside, pulsing through his earthly existence. His true existence is so much more than this, and he can see her itching under each breath too. He could break her bones with ease, and she'd be just fine. Going with the rhythm, he'd let her break him too. Bite his skin open. Watch as something he's made himself bleed out. He'd let her take all the control she wanted. Lash out against him, run her nails over his flesh.

The taste of her that his simple tongue could conceive. The hands of infinite power that could run over her thighs. She's like a black smoke in his mind, an overwhelming desire. His gaze gets lost on her, staring as she breathes, wondering all the things he could do to change the pattern.

He wants his heart beat to be rapid, wants the warmth of their flesh against each other. He brings himself, and she brings herself, that's all they need. He wants the demon and admires the flesh. It is something this body can sink into. Consume all human pleasures and temptations, mixing them with his own true form's. He's not becoming less of an angel, more human, losing his grace. He's never felt more in touch with it. The thought of touching this skin against hers. Causing a friction, and a tension, and a release. Run over all the planes that this body will allow. Touch what is left of her demonic soul. And he'd try to taste her, he really would. Fill her with light, and she'd sink into him. Dark ink dripping onto white paper. Heaven and hell falling on their laps, in their souls. Scorned by what they were taught was right, what to worship. His body would cling to hers, as she mutters damnations and praises. And he'll feel like he can't fucking breathe, because they're so close, breaking the limitations that these bodies can offer.

She'll slip down, her mouth on his neck, hands combing through his hair. They cannot escape their earthly confines. He'll go to her mouth, placing his lips on hers. Seeping through the seems of his earthly body, and then falling back into it, and feeling more at home than ever.

He breathes, breath coming in. He can feel the heartbeat in his vessel, and it feels like it's beating through his grace.


End file.
